Lunaria (A Soulmark Series Finale), page 13
I feel the shudder ripple through Carrie as his rebuttal sinks in. Caught in the crosshairs of the alphas battle of wills, I can do nothing but wait. Slowly, the she-wolf's grip relaxes. The moment the strain on my scalp loosens, I slump forward and close the distance between Adrian and me.
"Adrian," I whisper, bending low and near his face. I place my hands cautiously upon his chest and shake his body gently. Words are being exchanged behind me, but I don’t afford them my attention. "Adrian, please wake up. Please."
He does not stir but hope still flutters inside me. With a shaky breath, I move my hands from his chest and to his arm. Adrian wears only a long-sleeved shirt, and it is easy enough to tug the fabric upward past his elbow and display the mark of his heart's content. Of our heart's content.
He came for me. Again. Determination hardens inside of me. It’s time I see him as the man who crossed the realms in search of me, not some beast. If I don’t, we’ll both lose.
I’m taken from my somber resolution as tensions climb around me. I flit my gaze across the countless heads and bodies and tune in to the hostile words uttered behind me. The pack is enraptured with their alphas’ confrontation, and I can tell why.
So near to them, their unique influence radiates a kind of energy that demands obedience from those around them. I too sense the urgent need to fold to their ire, lest I endure their wrath again. More than mindful that time is a precious commodity while the whole of the pack's attention is elsewhere, I place a hand tentatively upon the tip of the lightning mark on his left bicep.
Our reactions are instant.
A tremulous breath plummets past my lips as electricity alights my veins in a purely blissful way. Adrian gasps awake. His eyes are immediately drawn to me. I wrench back my hand and cradle it to my chest, aware that I am still panting from the burst of sensual electricity riding through me. The dark abyss of Adrian's eyes is not so dauntless at this moment between us, but seems instead to be a vast pool of unknown, just waiting to be explored. I shiver at the thought.
"You're awake," Noah chimes in tersely from close by. "Good. Leave, and be sure to clean yourselves up."
"Noah—"
He quickly turns on his female companion, grabbing her chin roughly and jerking her head to the side to expose her neck. "Mine is the final word, do you understand?"
A subtle downward sweep of Carrie's eyes alleviates the tension between the alphas. The pack drinks up the submission greedily, a chorus of unruly cheers sounding as Adrian pulls himself up and then offers me his hand. I take it.
Not a single person moves from our path as we tread through the crowd.
Adrian's broad shoulders bump into every lycan we pass, clearing the way for us to slip out into the night. The cold air does not affect me at first, though the impression of its first icy touch does leave my flesh covered in goosebumps. I am blinded to the winter weather, tucked as I am into Adrian's side. With each yard we gain, the weight of his body presses further and further into mine.
Halfway to Adrian's quarters, I falter, and in doing so, we falter. The hard, snow-covered earth, with all its bumps and brittle pockets, provides little cushion for our tumble. The side of my face smashes into the ground, but all I can manage is a grunt of discomfort with half of Adrian's torso on my back. He mutters some curse, and in the next moment, I am back on my feet. This time it is Adrian who supports my weight, practically lifting me from the ground as he hustles us the remaining distance to our refuge.
Once inside, and the door shut firmly behind us, he goes straight to the bed and collapses. I stare, feet rooted to the ground, at his still form.
I shuffle forward. "Adrian?"
Nothing. With a gulp, I come to the end of the bed and poke his muscular calf.
"Adrian?"
He stirs, somewhat, cracking an eye open for a scant moment then letting it close. The area of flesh around his neck is badly blistered, with angry red welts and ominous black veins. My arms wrap around my middle as I contemplate numbly what to do.
He saved you. Help him.
The faint thoughts resonate. It is not in my nature to allow someone else to suffer so, even if a part of me is still wary.
I move to the dresser on silent feet to pluck a sweater and navy sweatpants from the drawers to tread outside more comfortably. Near the outhouse is an outdoor pump basin to clean one's hands, operated by a clever foot pump. I snatch a top punctuated with several holes bordering its collar and venture outside. It will suit my purpose just fine.
The trip to the water basin is uneventful, but it is somehow colder than a minute ago. Or perhaps it is because I no longer have the rokama's warmth to soak up.
My pulse flutters. The notion does not bother me as much as it would have yesterday. There is no denying the connection between us now, for the mere act of grazing his mark forced me to face the truth.
Although it is untraditional to find one's heart content outside of their kind, it is not uncommon, much like a soulmark. But to be bound to one's natural predator...
A shiver, unfounded by the cold splash of water soaking the ratty shirt I've taken, darts over the backs of my arms and up my neck.
Quinn always spoke candidly to me about the soulmark's effect. She liked to go into detail of its rather riveting and spine-tingling delights.
My teeth chew my bottom lip.
Touching the lightning mark on Adrian's bicep, so eerily similar to mine, had been a gamble in the ring. I’d done it simply to awaken him, knowing rumor of its effects to be… intense. Yet the awakening occurred with my fleeting touch, signaling our match with a rush of unbridled pleasure and crystalline assurance.
I let loose a long stream of air and watch as it clouds before me.
My hands sting painfully from wringing out the excess water from the now soaked shirt. I trudge back to the little cabin, hoping against all hope that Adrian remains incoherent and forgets about the success of the awakening. Should he be otherwise, he may very well request the second stage of unification; the entwining.
Though my cheeks are burnished a bright red from the weather, I'd swear they take on an even richer flush. It takes all my nerve—what little I have left—to reenter the cabin. My eyes glue themselves to the wood floor as I enter and shut the door behind me with a soft thud.
My sight darts to the end of the bed immediately. Adrian is very much awake and sitting slouched at the end of the bed. Our eyes meet. With both caution and care, he sits up straight and rolls back his shoulders. He breaks our intense standoff to peer at the dripping fabric in my hands.
I take a deep breath and release it with slow precision. "It's for your neck," I explain, toeing off the pair of tennis shoes I was given for the match. Adrian frowns, though the furrowing of his brow is not at all like the harsh expression he drew for those of the Wselfwulf pack.
"You're hurt," I murmur and hold out the damp, frigid fabric. My hands scream in protest while my feet refuse to cross over to the rokama. Gran's voice levels a chastisement in my mind about the childishness of my behavior, one she often repeated to me.
Look at you, a grown woman, acting like a five-year-old.
The memory of her scolding puts me to action. I walk to him, avoiding all eye contact, and wrap the garment around his tortured neck. The bare minimum of a hiss escapes him as I drape the soaked fabric loosely along the subjugation collar, making sure it rests on the abused flesh as much as possible.
"I wasn't sure if you had any healing supplies and thought a cold compress might help to alleviate your burns. Some are quite... impressive." The image of his solemn determination enters my mind's eye. I clear my throat as my cheeks turn pink. "Which only speaks to your valor."
Everything about the rokama softens; his posture, his frown, and the uncertainty in his eyes. As my gaze darts back and forth between his growing awe and my fussing hands upon the cold compress, a prickle of tension dots along my spine. Not knowing what else to say or do, I shuffle back.
Adrian is quick to react to my retreat, reaching out and clasping my hip. Notwithstanding his fatigued state, Adrian's strength is still formidable. I still, tremors of uncertainty pummeling me as I stare at him. The way he stares back... it's as if I am the one who saved him tonight.
"Thank you," he says, his voice coarse like rough gravel.
"You're—what are you doing?" I jerk back as he begins to tug down the ill-fitting sweatpants. I rush to halt their progress.
He stops, dark eyes roving up my body at a leisurely pace from their sudden interest in the oversized sweatpants precariously clinging to my waist.
"I want to see it fully," he whispers. "I saw it peeking out from your shorts in the boxing ring."
All the hair on my body comes to attention. I swallow, my protesting hands falling limp at my sides as I allow him the privilege. He tugs the sweatpants down till they gather around my feet. I know not what to do when he places his hands upon me, one at my hip, the other on my thigh. My heart beats madly in my chest, praying to the Gods and Goddesses to make his inquiry short.
Adrian contemplates the shorts I still wear from the match.
"Are you cold?"
I blink down at the back of his head. Pink scars peek through his close-shaven hair.
"Yes," I reply, grasping at the half-truth to disguise my nerves. His fingers flex on my hip. I inhale a shallow breath, far too conscious of the rapid drive of my pulse and unable to stop it.
"It's here... isn't it?"
I nod, unable to speak. The moment prolongs, and I tremble in anticipation. The rokama sighs, the action somehow far more cumbersome and tedious a thing than it should be. He leans down and snags the pants pooled around my feet and rights them until they rest awkwardly on my waist once more.
"What are you doing?"
He grunts, avoiding my eyes in an unusual show of... bashfulness? My hand reaches out as if possessed, to tuck my fingers under his jaw and tilt it upward. The stubble there is surprisingly soft. Adrian wears a frown, yet there is longing, plain as a glittering arahum in his eyes. It is the same look I've seen actors and actresses exchange on the aunts’ soap operas, which have neither soap nor operatic themes.
"You're not cold."
"I am not only cold," I correct with deliberate softness and drop my hand.
Adrian snatches it before I can tuck it away, cupping it in his own instead and bringing it to the side of his face. He leans into it with a soft exhalation, and then with his nose, half-pressed against my thumb, inhales deeply. The staggering burden of the world, which I feel confident Adrian bore on his shoulders alone just moments ago, slips away with his next breath. His stubble-laden cheek nudges into the heart of my hand, nuzzling the tender flesh.
A minute passes of this interaction with no hint of change. Gradually, the tension riding my body fades, and I too press into our fragile contact.
I inch forward, the hand upon my leg wavering at the movement before it sinks. A shudder courses through Adrian's large frame. When he dares to seek my gaze—that keen longing still achingly present—I cannot help but admire the rugged plane of his face.
His stout, square jaw is blanketed in the beginnings of what could be an impressive beard. His endless dark eyes and thick lashes conveyed far more than what I believe capable of his culled brethren: empathy, hope, and humble yearning. How I desire to trace the strong path of his nose. The urge itself comes sudden and fierce, to skim my finger along its slightly askew shape and learn the prominent bump upon its bridge. Everything about this man screams danger. That he is a warrior not to be trifled with.
Yet, perhaps he is my warrior.
Perhaps this is the time to—a flush builds at my chest and works its way with haste up my neck and cheeks—seduce him. I duck my head, hoping my snowy hair hides the worst of my blush. Jax's argument crops up in my head. Adrian has saved me multiple times thus far, and now again.
I take in a stilted breath and lock eyes with the rokama. "Why did you help me?"
His lips brush against my palm, their pressure teetering over the edge of modest as they sweep across it languidly.
"You are my heart's content." Another languid drag of his full lips, back toward the shapely mount of Venus that is the base of my thumb. "I wish you no harm, and so long as it is within my power, I will suffer on your behalf to spare you from pain."
His declaration wraps around my heart. Unwittingly, I find myself taking another step forward, a lump stuck in my throat. I had received many promises throughout my time in the human realm of aid, but none felt as true as Adrian's. Somehow, a seed of hurt sprouts inside of me.
"Then why didn't you come sooner?" I ask, falling short of my original intention of the night: seduction. Tears blur my vision. Of all the promises to send me home and save me from this ill-fated realm, even Adrian's own to keep me safe had fallen short. "Where were you?"
Adrian freezes. His eyes tracking the tears sweeping down my cheeks. "I didn't know," he rumbles quietly. Consternation takes over his features as he pulls away from the cradle of my hand and instead clasps it gingerly to his chest. "They do not permit me knowledge beyond the tasks they assign me, and I do not care to waste my time in their company when not necessary."
"How did you know to find me then?"
"I overheard a comment in the shower stalls." I turn my attention away at the straightforward explanation. Adrian gives a gentle flex of his finger to my thigh, and with a sigh, I swing my regard back to his remorseful face. "I will be more vigilant. Foolishly, I believed my new accord with the Wselfwulf alpha would be upheld." The hand on my thigh urges me closer until I stand snugly between his spread legs at the very edge of the bed. His body radiates warmth and wards off the worst of the room's chill. "In our original bargain, I pledged to secure you from the Adolphus pack, not knowing of the Wselfwulfs’ intention to use you to their gain. They swore you to be mine if I was successful... but they disregarded our arrangement. The new accord I made with the alpha," he continues, voice growing cold, "was to ensure you would not have to suffer their company."
A sour taste enters my mouth. I suck in my cheeks as my eyebrows slant down. A new accord... shouldn't I be in charge of my fate? My lungs expand as I take in a much-needed calming breath. I do not wish to be a thing that is bargained for, I think dismally. All I want is to be home, and for my friends to be safe.
"What troubles you?" Adrian's crooning voice ushers me back to the present.
My eyes shutter closed with a feeble sigh. Though we are each other's heart's content, I cannot afford to lay every thought, and concern bare to him. Not yet. Not as I should be able to if the circumstances and person were different.
"The thought of being the cause of my friends' demise is unbearable," I answer.
"You won't be the cause of their demise." Though each syllable is husky and curt, confidence resounds in his declaration.
For some reason, his faith leaves me with unease. How can he be so sure, when each passing minute, I waver in my resilience? I attempt to retreat but am met with resistance. Adrian's hand slips around my thigh and up my back to keep me in place.
My breath hitches.
"How can you be so sure that I won't be? I am neither brave nor strong, and the alphas have made it abundantly clear that my cooperation is... imperative to my friends' circumstances. One false move and either they are the targets of their torment, or I am. I cannot win."
"It is a game they like to play," Adrian confesses, "but their focus will soon be elsewhere and the end of this war at hand."
"What do you mean?"
Adrian's nose scrunches up as his regard narrows. "The Adolphus pack is not equipped for the Wselfwulfs’ wrath. Additionally, with the Stormrow sorcerers on their side, the odds have been evened against the coven of witches."
"The Adolphus pack and Trinity Coven are more prepared than you give them credit for—"
"Are they?" he interrupts, eyebrows hunching. "I've been involved in several scrimmages, with both the Adolphus pack and the lycans here. The Wselfwulfs are far more versed in battle than the Adolphus wolves, for they leave nothing to chance."
I stay quiet, my blood simmering. "You really believe the Wselfwulfs will win? That my friends stand no chance against them, here or there?"
Adrian's lips thin, but his raspy voice softens at my distress. "As I said, it will not be you that causes your friends' demise, Luna. But if you—"
A strangled noise itches at the base of my tongue with the ugly truth of my plight staring me in the face. Adrian pauses. I struggle to grasp onto the strands of hope which still stand inside of me. Cheeks heating with resentment I make my rebuttal.
"It will not matter in the end if I do as they bid or not. I will not help them in their quest to harness the power of the crystal." My shoulders sag as I continue in a whisper. "They will find a way to harm my friends, regardless."
"We all have to do our part to get out of here alive... as it is, our lot isn't going to be making it out in one piece."
I narrowly repress the shudder that desires to rake over my body thinking of Jax's one-eyed state.
"They would be far kinder to your friends if you decided to cooperate. They provided me with these private quarters for my cooperation and exemption from their ridiculous Trammel House." Adrian's voice belays an urgency that rankles my nerves.
And you paid for these terms with your wings and a glorified shock collar.
I square off my torso at his heinous suggestion, and he stiffens in response. Though I long to voice my petty thought, I force myself to stay collected and remove my hand from Adrian's chest with quiet deftness.
"Why do the Wselfwulfs think you can help with their quest for the crystal? Why do they think you can harvest its power?"
The change in topic holds little appeal to me, especially at the tenor of disbelief in Adrian's questions at the notion of my involvement. Unwittingly, my posture stiffens at his insinuation. First, I cannot help my friends, and now it is inconceivable that I could be of use to the Wselfwulfs concerning the crystal? I huff before I make my retort.
